Ourselves
by Glum n Dumb Skittery
Summary: (rated for abuse, language, slash) [SnitchSkitts] "I can't tell you." "Why's that?" Snitch curled up onto his side, letting the pain wrack through his body. 'You have your secrets, let me keep mines."
1. Chapter 1

****

A/N: I got inspired after listening repeatedly to "Atlantis Princess" by BoA. Not sure why. Result = this. Just know, it's AU (Alternate Universe), present-day, slash-ness. Angst.   
  
**Disclaimer: **Do not own Newsies. If I did, odds are, none of them would leave the Lodging House. At all. You read between the lines for yourself. +wink wink+  


  
"(So) I show myself/Only to you/Which no one in the world knows/(But) I may still have/Some secret sides/You have never seen/Which no one in the world knows" -"Ourselves" (English translation), Hamasaki Ayumi

+++  
  
"…I'm gay."  
  
+++

"What the hell?!" Skittery stared, utterly appalled, face contorted in a mixture of shock and horror, at the boy before him.

A sight to see. Battered and bruised, bloodied and broken, a small, sad ghost of a smile gracing his significantly paled features. His small frame glowing luminously with the gaudy orange of the streetlight just outside, the moonlight streaming down on the sidewalk just behind him. Ethereal. Yet so sad…

Skittery heaved a sigh, extending an inviting arm out for the other to walk in to, wrapping a protective arm around his shoulders. "Snitch, just come in, it's freezing outside." It was only once the slightly shorter boy had taken two steps forward did Skittery notice the several bags outside his door as well. His eyes widened considerably. He looked from the bags to his best friend. "I'm guessing you're not here for a sleepover." Realization dawned on him once the words passed his lips. "You didn't… _they _didn't… did they?"

Snitch spoke for the first time since arriving not more than five minutes ago. "If by _they _you mean my parents, then, no, _they _didn't. As of half an hour ago, I am no one's son."

"Shit."

The shorter boy shrugged as nonchalantly as possible for one in his situation, running a shaking hand through slightly wavy strands of dark brown. He stepped into the house, grateful for the rush of warm air that engulfed him upon entrance. Skittery could be heard shuffling around for a moment, soft thuds heard as he brought in Snitch's few bags, before the door closed with a light 'click'. 

"Sooo…" The taller boy gave his friend the once-over before shaking his head. In one fluid motion, he had the boy by the wrist and was steadily dragging him towards the kitchen and plopping him down in a cushioned wooden chair. "Stay there."

"…why?"

Skittery rolled his eyes dramatically. "You're bleeding all over my precious step-mother's carpet, we need to patch you up. And, disregarding the fact that you look ready to fall over, the only way I know I'm going to get you to talk is with food. So stay there. Or I will tie you to that chair to ensure you stay there."

The smallest of smiles twitched at Snitch's lips. "Fair enough." He leaned back in to the stiff chair and sighed.

+++

The chair toppled, the table shaking as the head of said chair hit its weakest leg. A glass bowl fell to the tiled floor, shattering forcefully, shards of glass and broccoli went flying. No one moved. Except Snitch.

Fear coursed through his veins like liquid fire, seizing his being, adrenaline powering him, controlling him. And he knew only one word: _run_. And so he did.

But the man was faster. By whatever miracle God has chosen to grace on the old man, he caught Snitch by the wrist, wrenching his own son around to look him in the eye. "Take it back."

Bursts of light shot before the boy's widened eyes as pain flared up through his arm. He opened his mouth to say something, anything to keep the pain away. Tears flooded his eyes.

+++

"Ouch."

Skittery chuckled at Snitch's reaction, the antiseptic-laden cloth was still at least an inch away from the boy's skin and he had already winced and jumped. "Calm down, man, it won't hurt… much."

"Funny. It also won't hurt _much_ if I shove the stupid cloth up your — _shit_!"

"One down, a million to go." Skittery smiled innocently up at his best friend.  
"You wanna tell me what happened now?"  
  
"You suck, did you know that? And, no. If I remember correctly, you said something about food." Snitch twisted his lips childishly into a full pout, doing everything humanly possible to get his mind off of the two things he most certainly did not want to be thinking of. The antiseptic and his father. He hissed softly as the cool, wet towel was pressed firmly to an exceptionally large gash on his left temple. His eyes suddenly stung, hand automatically shooting out to grasp Skittery's wrist. "Shit, man, it… _hurts_."  
  
+++

"Say it! Say you're not gay!"

Snitch gasped for breath as his face was pulled out of the backyard, dirt and grass clinging to his tear-stained face. _It hurts… I'm going to die…_ The mantra continued in his head, over and over. Hope dispersed. 

_I'm fucking gay, you stupid bastard!_ was what he wanted to cry so desperately, but words are hard to form when dirt is sliding over your tongue, forming its gritty and grimy path down your esophagus until you can't breathe. So instead he gagged, bile sloshing in his stomach, rising steadily. His stomach heaved and the tears overflowed.   
  
_Make it stop…_

+++  
  
"Augh! Whoa, whoa, OK, I gotcha, I gotcha…" Skittery caught the other boy around the waist as Snitch made a running dive for the sink, his entire body lurching forward as the entire contents of his dinner came up and out. The taller boy stroked Snitch's back gently, concern sweeping over the features. He'd been cleaning up the last of his (visible) cuts — God knows what lacerations and bruises were hidden beneath the boy's shirt — when Snitch had suddenly gone limp, a far away look in his eye creeping in, when he'd suddenly jumped up, hand clutched tightly to his mouth.

Snitch rode wave after wave of nausea, the tears returned and he cared not about the pain, concentrating on the slow steady hand soothing his back, and the gentle wind that came whispered from words unheard.

+++

"Are you gay?" The same three words, repeated. Repeated. Hour after hour. It wouldn't end. The answer would always be the same…

Snitch tried desperately to stand, managing to get on his hands and knees, glaring defiantly at the ground as he regained his breath, before spitting out "Yes." A cry released past once-defiant lips as a foot came down harshly upon the small of his back, pressing him back down into the ground.

"No son of mines is gonna be some fucking faggot."

Snitch's eyes narrowed, he lay still beneath the foot, ignoring the pulsing pain that throbbed with instant heat upon his spine. Words played at the tip of his tongue, waiting to be set free. 

He thought of the neighbors. They had to have heard. But they did nothing. He thought of his mother, inside, who sat at the window watching, crying. Yet doing nothing. He thought of his baby sister, upstairs, oblivious to it all, asleep in her nursery. Of his second youngest sister who wasn't even home yet, happy in her new found world of makeup and accessories, off at a sleepover at her friends house. They'd tell Jordan, when she got home, that he'd run away and she'd cry and they'd offer pseudo-sympathy. When little Jamie was old enough, she wouldn't even remember she had a big brother, he'd just be an "imaginary friend" she used to have. 

And Snitch knew. And a mile-wide grin appeared on his lips, so wide it cracked open a new cut, blood spilling down his chin. 

"You hear me?! No fucking son of mines is going to be some FAG!"

Snitch struggled beneath his father's foot, which caused the impending force to push down even harder. He snapped. "Then I guess you don't have a fucking _son_!"

It was silent for a moment before the foot was released and Snitch lay still. Waiting. Wondering. Hoping that somehow those words had snapped his father back into some state of sanity. Finally, words came.

"You're right. I don't. Get out."

Snitch's entire body tensed. He froze in complete and utter disbelief. _No…_

"Did you hear me?! I said… GET OUT."  
  
+++

"Snitch, Snitch, you OK? Did you hear me? It's over, kid." Skittery gently placed a hand over Snitch's, his knuckles had turned white from gripping the sides of the sinks, his entire body trembling and weak.

"Maybe we should hold off on giving you some food for a little while," Skittery said, offering a half-smile to his friend. His expression dropped, though, as Snitch slowly turned his head to look at him, expression solemn, lips pursed tightly together. Skitt's voice dropped low. "You wanna tell me what happened now?"

Snitch's knees buckled, head dropping to Skittery's shoulder as he was caught. "Skitts," he murmured tiredly, "are you gay?"

Skittery paused for a moment, hesitating. "I'm bi, but you already knew that, right?"

A long sigh was audible and Skittery waited in uncomfortable silence, placing awkward hands on his friend's shoulders. "Skitts?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you in love with someone?"

That was certainly a question Skittery had not been expecting. He licked dry lips. _How to answer…_ The truth seemed like the best way to go, under the circumstances. This was no time for jokes or loopholes. "I don't know."

"Skitts?"

"Hmm?"

"Do your parents know?"

"Well…" a nervous cough, "no, not exactly."

"Skitts?"

This was getting a bit old. "What?"

"I can't tell you."

Skittery heaved a sigh, glancing down at Snitch, trying to determine whether or not it would be safe to move Snitch to the sofa, a chair, anything to keep this boy from collapsing within his arms. "Why's that?" He took a small step backwards, keeping a supportive arm around Snitch, but the boy was a lot weaker than he seemed. Both went plummeting to the cold, tiled floor in an unruly heap.

Snitch curled up on his side, letting the pain wrack his body at the sudden impact. "You have your secrets. Let me keep mines," he whispered, closing his eyes.

"…Snitch?"

"What, Skittery?"

"Are _you _in love with someone?"

Silence reigned for several minutes, and Skittery heaved a sigh, believing his friend had fallen asleep, or unconscious, on him. He started to stand, when a hand shot out and grabbed his pants leg.

"…yeah," came the softest of replies. "I am."

A smile crossed Skittery's face. "Yeah? Who?" Silence. He chuckled. "Fine, don't tell me, I understand."

"…Skitts?"

"Yeah, Snitch?"

"I think I want to die."

The chestnut-haired boy seemed to think this over for a moment before shaking his head. "You can't," he managed after awhile.

Snitch groaned, head moving lethargically to look at him. He could feel his throat burn with tears that were threatening to spill. "Why the fuck not?" 

"'Cause you're in love with someone, you idiot. You don't live for yourself anymore."

Snitch snorted. "That's stupid. I'm gay remember? I like guys. If I ever attempted telling the person they'd probably never speak to me again."

"You say 'probably'. Why?"

"Fine, then: never. Happy?"

"No. Why don't you just tell the person?"

"Because I value my life, thanks."  
  
"So, you don't want to die then."

"Skitts?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

Skittery laughed, swiping an arm across his forehead lazily, fringe of light brown getting ruffled with the action. "You always have been caught up in yourself. Remember your crush on Jack back in the 7th grade? After you finally admitted you liked him out loud to me you started avoiding him like the plague. Why are you so afraid of being who you are?"

"Because…" Snitch hesitated, biting his lip to hold back _because my parents are homophobes_, instead resorting to, "because what I am is wrong."

The taller boy whacked lightly at his friend's arm. "You idiot. You fell in love with Jack, and the guy you say you're in love with now, because you have no boundaries over who you fall in love with. It's purely emotional. It wasn't because you're gay." It was quiet as Skittery let the words sink in. He grinned. Hoping his message came across.

"Stop beating yourself up over this," he whispered after a moment. "Your dad seems to have done enough of that by himself."

Snitch shot straight up, not noticing the stiffness of his limbs nor the pain that seized his body in that one action. His eyes wide, he stared at his best friend. "What did you say?"

"Calm down." Skittery placed a reassuring hand on Snitch's shoulder. "Jordan called me. From her cell. She was walking home from a friend's house because she forgot something. She was going to jump the wall in your backyard but she saw you and your dad. She's terrified for you, she thought you'd come here so she called me."

Snitch was at a lost for words, mouth opening and closing, lips trying to form words that wouldn't come out properly. Skittery grinned. "I called the cops, already. They should be at your house busting some ass."

Snitch wasn't sure what registered first: relief or fear. "No…" His eyes widened. "No, you didn't."

"He won't hurt you anymore," Skittery tried to reason, seeing the rising panic in Snitch's eyes.

But he was past panic, and going straight into hysterical. "He won't stay in there forever, Skitts. He'll find me."  
  
"You don't understand, now you can be whoever you want to be."  
  
"ADAM." Skittery lost words at the use of his real name. "I'm gay." Tear sparkled brightly in his eyes. "You're bi." Snitch smiled sadly. "We can never be who we want to be."

Skittery's eyes narrowed. "That's not true." He pursed his lips together defiantly.

"What happened to Mr. Glum & Dumb?" Snitch muttered beneath his breath, shooting daggers with his eyes at Skittery. "You don't know my father."  
  
"And you obviously don't know me," Skittery snapped. "Child Services want to put you in a foster home."  
  
It registered, it clicked, and blood boiled. Not good. "Skittery… what the FUCK?! How could you?! I am _not_ going to be the paycheck child in some stranger's house!" 

"…then how about in a friend's house?"  


__

-end part one-

****

A/N: Heh. This turned out a _bit_ more random than I wanted it to. Hum. In any case, it should be a two or three parter, not some blown-out-of-proportion series. I hope. :\ I hope it's painfully obvious who's going to be taking Snitch in. But… then again, I do not directly know where this is going. We'll see.  
  
Heh. Don't hate me for this.  
  
If anything, other characters will be jumping in… because I can. And I do not know about the pairings just yet. This was supposed to be a story to help cure me of current writer's block. Don't know if it did. Blah. 

I have waaay too much time on my hands. +sigh+  
  
Review, please!


	2. Chapter 2

****

A/N: Just got back from my trip, sorry for the delay of this chapter, if only for a week. I wrote most of it on the plane, but still haven't decided on an ending, so, whatever happens, happens. Until I edit, of course. Enjoy. **All standard disclaimers apply**. Here goes…

__

"Today I changed/Too late, 'cause everyone stayed the same/I'm gone, so long, break out, 'cause I'm better off on my own."-"Stuck in America", Sugarcult

+++

"Skittery… you asleep?"

Skitt's eyes blinked open frantically at the small voice in the dark. Snitch talking now days was like the coming of the apocalypse. It had been several days of paperwork, lawyers, and Snitch not speaking a word to anyone, including Skittery, unless absolutely necessary. 

Immediately forcing himself awake, Skittery sat straight up, managing to make an ass out of himself all the same, his forehead smacking straight into Snitch's nose. Said Snitch cursed in a loud whisper, eyes tearing up, hands gingerly cupped around his injured face. Skittery was vehemently rubbing at his forehead, staring in bewilderment and horror at Snitch. "Are you OK?" he gasped, worry boiling in the pit of his stomach.

"…fine, fine. I think you broke my nose."

"Jeeze, what're you doing here anyway?! You scared the shit out of me!" Skittery ran his fingers over the tingling skin of his forehead. He flopped back down on his bed, stretching, only to stop when no answer came from the other boy. "Snitch?"

"It's… nothin'. Nevermind. Sorry for waking you up."

Snitch barely had time to react as he slid off the side of Skittery's bed, where he had been sitting mere minutes earlier, when a hand shot out and landed lightly on his shoulder. It suddenly made perfect sense why Skittery had been bestowed with his name, he had his skittish moments, true, but his reflexes were also dead on, maybe too much so - it got scary.

"What's _wrong_?"

But the shorter boy merely shook his head sadly, a weak, forced smile making its way to his face. The Lady Moon outside was pregnant with overbearing light, casting shadows and faces throughout the darkened room. And all was silent, as though all breaths were being held for the moment to pass.

"Snitch?"

+++

"MONSTER!" A six-year old Snitch went into a flying leap into a head-dive beneath the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle covers. Skittery sat, understandably confused and calm, on the ground, watching his best friend cowering beneath the covers in this foreign room. It was their first sleepover and Snitch was past home-sick, and settling straight into suicide attempts.

Skittery picked himself up and walked towards the quivering pile of tangled sheets and pillows, promptly poking it as he saw fit. "Snitch? There ain't no monsters here, y'know? 'Sides, even if there was, my Daddy'd beat 'em for us!" He waited a few more seconds. "Snitch? C'mon, come out. Please?"

The Power Rangers clock on the wall counted off the seconds in soft 'ticks'. Then came the defiant reply. As sorely expected.  
  
+++

"NO!" Snitch heaved an exasperated sigh. "Good _God_, Skitts, just leave it _alone_ already and go to sleep!" And then, as if to prove his point, he promptly turned over to face his back to Skittery from the cot that had been provided for him by his temporary family.

Skittery twisted his lips impatiently. "You're just as bad as when you were six freakin' years old, Snitch. Tell me what's wrong already!" 

Snitch sat up abruptly and glared. If looks could kill… "Just drop it, all right? It's been three days of people I don't even know pretending to care about me and trying to get me to put my own father in jail. It's just… _shit. _What do you know?"

By now, the two were shooting heated whispers across the room to one another, not wanting to disturb the rest of the household. 

"I know that I know everything about you that there is to know, starting with the fact of me knowing that it took me three hours for me to get you out from under the covers at our first sleepover because you were scared — hell, I had to actually go under with you! THREE hours!"

Snitch's mouth dropped open.

+++

"DID NOT!"  
  
"DID TOO!"  
  
"DID NOT!"  
  
"DID T— "  
  
"Boys! That's enough. What're you still doing up?"

Snitch and Skittery both stuck their heads out from beneath their pile of sheets, blankets and pillows heaped on Skittery's bed, where they had taken up refuge from "the monsters" for the past… very long time. "Hi Dad!" a none-too sleepy Skittery crowed to his father with a tiny wave. Snitch, thumb now inserted firmly and contentedly between his lips, offered an identical wave with his free hand.

Skittery's father seemed at a loss for words for a moment before cracking a grin he couldn't suppress. "What're you boys still doing up?" he inquired, taking a seat next to the two boys atop the bed, smoothing down the sheets in the process. "And what were you two arguing about?"

"Whether or not you checked for monsters under the bed before Snitch came over," his son answered, in a matter-of-fact tone.

One could swear it was laughter, not coughing, that was coming from Skittery's dad. He cleared his throat soon after and grinned. "Is that all? Well, in all honesty, yes! I did check, especially for Snitch, for those darn monsters. Scared them away too, almost had to throw one in the toilet!"

Skittery and Snitch giggled. Skittery looked on in admiration at his bespectacled father before looking to Snitch, conviction lost on his voice from the previous round of their near never-ending banter. "See? Nothing can get to us as long as my Daddy's around! And tomorrow, when we go to your house, your Daddy's gonna do the same. That's what Daddy's do." Skittery looked to his father for confirmation, which was granted with a paternal nod. The six-year old smiled and was rewarded by his best friend's nod of affirmation and an adorable large-toothed grin.

+++

"…'that's what Daddy's do,'" Snitch whispered sadly.

A twinge of pain shot through Skittery's veins and he moved from his bed to Snitch's cot, despite the fact that the old metal frame could give at any given moment at the unexpected weight. He tentatively placed an arm around the other's shoulders. "Yeah. I mean, that's why you're here you know? You're Dad's supposed to be the one protecting you, not the one that you need the protection from."

"But, still," Snitch said, slowly, carefully choosing his words, pain evident in his eyes. "This wouldn't have happened if I wasn't… if I wasn't…" Skittery remained silent as tiny rivers running down Snitch's pale face ruined the image of his forever happy best friend. He swallowed hard.

"But you are," he interjected. "That's who you _are_. Being who _we _are, _ourselves_, is never gonna be easy, y'know?"

"…"

"All those damn social workers and lawyers, even if they don't know you, they damn well know what they're doing. And they're not going to let your dad get to you. Ever."  
  
"…"  
  
"You're stuck here with me, buddy."  
  
Snitch snorted. "Joy."

--+--

"Everybody's talkin' 'bout blowin' up the neighborhood/Everybody's gonna watch it burn today!/Everybody's talkin' bout wakin' up the neighborhood/I'm still tryin' to esca-a-a-ape!" 

The lone car speeding down the highway, radio blasting Sugarcult, windows rolled all the way down, settled off into riding in the distance of nowhere. Its two passengers, two teenage boys, grinned at each other.

"Hey, Snitch, you never did tell me who you like!" Skittery yelled over the rushing wind, momentarily tearing his eyes away from the road to look at his singing friend.

The other boy grinned and paused to return the glance to Skittery. "It doesn't matter!" He yelled right back. 

"_What_?! Of course it does!" Came the laughing reply.

"Nope! Even if it did, I wouldn't be able to tell you!"  
  
"WHY NOT?!"  
  
Snitch had to pause to throw his head back and laugh. "It's 'cause I don't live for myself anymore, you dolt! If I told you, it might affect that other person, and I just _can't_ do that!"

"… you idiot."  
  
Snitch grinned, nonetheless. And as they drove, the bruises faded, the scars healed, and he smiled again. Because this was it. 

Even if they didn't know him, so many gathered to try to _get_ to know him, to _protect_ him. The job ripped from his father for so many reasons that felt so _right_. 

Reality hit home. 

He couldn't always be the person people wanted him to be. God knows, he already knew that. But even so, he could hope that he could be accepted by those few he wanted to be accepted by. Even if it did not include his father. That was fine. His only wish was that when it came time to walk through those court doors, and he had to formally admit his sexuality he would be welcomed by cries of hatred. _Because he was being himself._

"So, you wanna grab a burger or something?" Skittery asked over the roaring wind, smiling at both Snitch and the road.

Snitch shrugged and nodded, at the same time. Without second thought, he placed his hand over Skittery's and looked at the other boy. "Sure." A blush heated the taller boy's face, but he smiled back.

"Sure."

_Because he was being himself. _And he wasn't alone.

__

"(So) Even if no one in the world knows me/I wish you alone/To know me/(Yes) Even if no one in the world knows us/We know each other/So well" -"Ourselves" (English translation), Hamasaki Ayumi_  
  
_**-fin-  
  
A/N: **(Before I forget, I do not own any rights to Hamasaki or Sugarcult's lovely songs, so, I'm not going to disclaim away.) Well, that went a lot better than I thought it would. Fluff slipped in, and I'm not quite sure how. I guess it balances out the angst from the previous chapter. I tried my best to keep the profanity to a down low and didn't want Snitch's dad to always be this looming figure up in everyone's face. There're some definite plot holes, but, we'll save those for another day. Please review. Cheers.


End file.
